The Red Light Curse
by the stargate time traveller
Summary: Tired of the magical world, tired of the spies and the lying manipulations in his life, Harry leaves Privet Drive. He finds himself in Soho, London, where his life changes forever when he is invited by a madam...
1. Chapter 1 Lost in Soho

I don't own Harry Potter, just this story.

Please let me know what you think. My thanks to White Angel of Auralon for how to deal with Horcruxes.

This story is going to be rated M for a good reason.

Note - I had originally planned for Harry to be a girl in this story before I changed my mind, but I didn't completely edit out the bits. But I think I have cleared it up now.

* * *

The Red Light Curse.

_Maybe running away was not the best choice I've had, _Harry thought to himself as he shivered through the streets of London, _but at least I'm free of those idiot guards who are constantly stomping around Little Whinging or snoring in front of the Dursleys. Oh god, if Uncle Vernon even __**finds **__out about that, it won't be pretty. _

He had often thought about running away from his problems - okay, it wasn't entirely a Gryffindor approach to a problem, but Harry did not really care about that, not after the horrible year he'd had when he had been cast out of Gryffindor and had simply refused to go back after the First Task despite pressure from Dumbledore and McGonagall, and now Harry had no idea what was going to happen when he returned to the school in the first place.

_Maybe running away was the best choice after all, in hindsight, _Harry thought before he simply changed his mind.

He was tired of the never-ending shifts in how the rest of the school reacted around him. He hated it. He hated being looked at like he was Superman one minute, and then he was suddenly the Joker or Two-Face, or even the Green Goblin the next. And it happened every single year. Harry had worked out the hard way the magical world had placed him up on a pedestal, lauding him as a superhero while they scrutinised his every move, and if he did something they didn't like, then he was shunned for it.

The mess in second and his last year was proof of that. Harry closed his eyes tiredly for a moment, although he opened them again since he was still in muggle London, and while he was a wizard and capable of defending himself against a muggle attacker, the last thing he needed was to be seen as hopeless.

The only problem he had on his mind now was what he was going to do next.

He had come to hate his life in the magical world, and a student of Hogwarts.

It was ironic, he had hoped to get away from the Dursleys, but at least he knew where he stood with them. Now he didn't, although in truth it had always been that way, when he had been frustrated year after year by the never-ending lies and half-truths, and the evasions to whatever concerns and questions he had, but now it was even worse - the Ministry were slandering him by using the Daily Prophet as their mouthpiece, using recycled material gleaned by Rita Skeeter's scathing articles during the Tri-wizard tournament.

He wondered how they would react with Lord Voldemort announcing his return, but he didn't care.

It might be seen as childish, but Harry Potter simply didn't care about the magical world anymore. He just could not work out why they never solved their own problems, and give a bit of backbone. Come on - they had wands, they were more experienced, and yet their pissed themselves whenever a Dark Lord came calling? It was stupid!

At Hogwarts, he was seen as both a hero and a villain, the latter when things spiralled out of control. Even worse, his _education _as a wizard was being held back by Ron and Hermione, although it wasn't anymore since the two idiots had destroyed their so-called _friendship. _It wasn't much of a friendship, anyway; Harry knew the pair of them, for reasons, passing understanding, had been sabotaging his education, although what they got out of it, he had no idea, although he could guess, since Ron was materialistic and he was constantly moaning about money and was immensely touchy about the wealth Harry had inherited from his parents. Hermione… he wasn't sure about her, but he had a feeling it would be knowledge since she treasured that more than she did wealth.

Ron Weasley had gone out of his way to be his friend, and while he had repulsed Harry with his attitude, he had accepted mostly because she had wanted to know how it would play out over time. Ron was always moaning whenever Harry had wanted to study up for tests or exams, so he had pretended to follow his league, although he secretly studied whenever he could. A simple potion here and there, and he was able to study for as long as he wished without anyone being any the wiser.

Hermione Granger had then come onto the scene, and she had quickly whipped Harry and Ron into shape with their studying; Harry was sure Dumbledore was behind the friendship, and he had not liked the notion of the Boy Who Lived failing his classes due to Weasley's laziness, and he guessed it would not do wonders for his image if it got out, so Hermione came onto the scene, knowing full well the bushy-haired brunette was a hypocrite of the highest order since she always threw a tantrum in a similar manner to Dudley whenever she discovered someone had scored higher than her.

Harry smirked as he remembered how he had originally planned, more out of spite than anything else, to keep himself separated from the pair of them so he could study to her own pleasure when he got back to Hogwarts.

Not anymore. That plan had gone out of the window when he had discovered there were guards on Privet Drive. It was maddening; he had spent the last two weeks being isolated with no-one telling him anything about what was currently happening in Magical Britain with Voldemort, everyone constantly saying in their letters they couldn't say anything. Ron and Hermione had sent him over a _dozen _letters, fully expecting him to forgive and forget everything they had done the previous year, and were completely oblivious to the very idea he might actually have decided he wasn't going to forgive and forget.

Harry couldn't understand the logic behind the embargo. Oh, he could understand the need and even the necessity for _secrecy, _but surely it had occurred to Dumbledore, if he had registered the fact Voldemort was after him, to pass him some information via the guards.

Surely it had occurred to him, instead of being a benefit to whatever insane and badly thought out scheme he had in his mind at the moment, if Harry wandered off without knowing what was happening, it would get him killed?

He grimaced as she thought of the guards she'd been hearing recently at Privet Drive. If you needed any proof the magical world didn't use its brains, you should see what they had done in Little Whinging.

Not only had they used _invisibility cloaks, _which was stupid because any muggle would just need to trip on them or step on the hem, and their cover was blown, but they didn't bother silencing themselves, so everyone could hear them. In fact, Harry had more than once caught the bewildered looks on the faces of the people around her as they overheard the sounds.

If he needed proof the magical world, especially the so-called _light, _who were meant to love muggles, disdained them in equal measure and believed muggles were just simple children or filthy barbarians who had no imagination or intelligence, he had it in spades with how the guards Dumbledore had put up on Privet Drive had simply not silenced themselves when they appeared on watch, never mind hide themselves in a reliable manner.

Harry had simply shrugged his shoulders. If they wanted to hide the fact they were bigots, and their society just wasn't worthwhile, then so be it. He didn't care. If Dumbledore wanted to hide things, so what? He was done with it, he was done with playing the pawn. It was time for him to change, it was time for him to grow.

It made no difference, not anymore. He was leaving the magical world behind, although he only had a basic idea of what he was going to do.

He didn't completely plan on leaving the magical world behind, he just wanted to leave Britain. He was sick and tired of the insular society. He was tired of the lies, the manipulations, he was tired of how he couldn't do anything without being scrutinised, and more essentially, he knew she needed to learn enough magic to fight Voldemort off, and then he would leave the magical world behind. He had no idea how that would happen, but it looked pretty likely he would need to fake his own death.

Harry no longer cared about the people themselves. He didn't care about Dumbledore and the people at Hogwarts. He didn't care about the Weasleys or Hermione, and he definitely didn't care about her deadbeat godfather. Harry grimaced as she thought of the useless bastard whom his parents had thought would be a responsible enough to look after him, but had turned out to be a major disappointment since the only things that concerned Sirius was his own carefree lifestyle and getting revenge on Pettigrew. Not little Harry Potter, you know, the godson he had been appointed to care for?

That was why he had come out of Azkaban in the first place, and it had been a bitter blow for him when he'd realised that. He hadn't even occurred to Sirius truly once, especially since he could have slipped free of the Dementors at any point, and found a way to clear his name.

_No, don't think any more about them. They're irrelevant. Now is the time to think of the future, remember? _

XXX

Once more Harry cursed his lack of general knowledge of the geography of London. Was Soho close to where the entrance of Diagon Alley was? He didn't know. He had been walking around for ages, and he had been so fixated by his thoughts he hadn't really considered where he was going in the city.

Yes, he had the muggle money to get on the Tube, but when he had been travelling on the Underground with Hagrid before his first year, he hadn't seen which stations they were heading for because he had been speaking to the half-giant, although he had kept her questions based around his parents and his family in order to learn more.

Now he was regretting his decision. It also didn't help him that he just wanted to avoid using the Knight Bus again; he wanted to leave the Magical world behind, the last thing he wanted was to be sighted by anyone who knew what he looked like.

"Going somewhere, sweetie?"

Harry whipped around in shock, cursing himself for keeping his wand in his inner coat pocket because he hadn't wanted anyone passing to see the stick in his waistband. He stopped in surprise when he found herself looking at a woman who appeared to be only a few years older than himself, wearing a cross between an ultra-short mini skirt, high heeled shoes, and a business suit jacket. She was standing in an open doorway, but since Harry didn't know much about this part of London, he had no idea what the opening led into.

"Er, you could say that," Harry whispered.

The woman smiled. "You look cold out here, love," she said in her strong cockney accent. "Come on," she stepped back and gestured to the inside.

Harry shivered, feeling the warmth coming from the interior, although he had no idea what the place was. He hesitated. He didn't know who this woman was, and why she seemed so hospitable. "Why?" he asked.

The woman didn't seem offended. Instead, she smiled at the question from the teenage boy in front of her. "I want to help you," she said. "You're cold, and you look as skinny as a rake, and those clothes look awful," she cast her eyes over Harry's clothes.

Harry ground his teeth angrily at the observation. But the offer of shelter was compelling. Although he was trying his best to hide it, Harry was hungry, he was tired, and he had been travelling a long way just to get here. Being cold didn't help matters; he had felt his teeth-rattling, and he wished he could have taken out his warm travelling cloak just to keep himself warm, but since he didn't want to leave any breadcrumbs or excuses for Fudge to throw the book at his, or whatever it was in the magical world he had foregone that idea.

But on top of that, Harry was frightened.

Not only did he not know where he was, but he had no idea of how he was going to get to Gringotts except with the Knight Bus…._I could always put it off for a few nights, summon the Bus when I've had a few days to think of a few plans. _

"Okay," Harry replied, and he walked to the door.


	2. Chapter 2 Into the Brothel

Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter, I just own this story.

Please let me know what you think.

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The Red Light Curse.

Patricia was surprised the Boy Who Lived himself was actually walking through the door of her brothel. She was a witch herself, so she recognised him easily thanks to the Daily Prophet articles about him, and one look at his worried and terrified face made it more than clear to her this was not a lying brat who had a silver spoon in his mouth as so many assumed.

She had never particularly liked the magical world's habit of putting people up on pedestals; she had seen the mess which had happened when Albus Dumbledore had been begged over and over again to stop Grindelwald on his rise to power, but what made everything so bad was how they had looked to Dumbledore to solve all their problems.

Patricia had no idea why the magical world was divided into two groups where one group would just sit back and let someone else protect them, and the other side was expected to do all the legwork without anyone else to raise a finger to help.

There was no doubt in her mind that the Boy Who Lived's life was already preordained for him. Sorted into Gryffindor without fail, expected to be brave, brash, impulsive and stupid - all the hallmarks of that house, really, and expected to become an Auror and settle down with a wife of the choosing of whoever was powerful enough to tell the boy what to do. Her money was on Dumbledore given what her contacts told her about their relationship.

She found it ironic, really; the great elder statesman who continuously said he didn't want to be Minister, yet everyone expected him to decide for everyone else.

Another thing she had disdained was how the magical world believed everything the Ministry said in the Daily Prophet, but despite the fact she rarely went into the magical world itself, she knew the Ministry were in denial about the return of Lord Voldemort. She wasn't afraid to say the mad bastard's name despite being aware of how so many others had said the name and died in the most disturbing manner possible each time until everyone considered the name to be cursed.

Madam Patricia wasn't really sure if Voldemort was alive, but she was willing to bet he was given how _different _he was compared to the other Dark Lords in history. In any case, one look at the boy as he walked past, completely oblivious to what was on the other side of the door, and she only needed to look into his eyes and see into his mind with her legilimency skills, and she could see clearly the boy was frightened. He was telling the truth, and she had to use all of her one hundred years of control to just stopping herself from reacting when she saw the memory of how Voldemort had returned; her knowledge of curses and rituals helped her to identify the ritual Voldemort had used, and she had to admit it was a good way for Voldemort to return, although she was surprised he would use a wizard to supply the flesh since the most commonly used individual would have been a House elf given their loyalty to their master, but then again it was likely Voldemort had chosen to use a Death Eater because he had disdained to ask a House elf for help.

She was a little bit surprised the deeper she got into Harry's mind. She could see his instinctive distrust for Dumbledore and anyone associated with the older wizard. She didn't really care much for the news Sirius Black was innocent. It wouldn't do anything for her, to be honest, she couldn't really use that knowledge.

But one thing was certain, Harry's distrust for Dumbledore was so deep, there was little doubt in her mind if Dumbledore tried to suggest a wife, he would just refuse. He didn't want anyone having that level of control over his life, and she couldn't say she would blame him for being resentful someone would interfere in that avenue if it ever happened.

Dumbledore had always been a control freak when they had been at school together, but he had never comprehended the fact many people were naturally independent and didn't want their lives interfered with. In any case, she had seen how Dumbledore had changed the magical world from behind the scenes, so he didn't really need to be the Minister with all the titles he had under his control.

Patricia went through everything she had seen in Harry Potter's mind. She felt sorry for him. He was a teenager and yet everyone didn't really believe him about the return of Voldemort. And he had suffered from severe emotional and verbal abuse with some physical abuse thrown in, it was almost a surprise the boy hadn't snapped before now. Thanks to the new insight she had into his mind, Patricia could safely say she wouldn't blame him if she did snap.

Everyone had a limit on the things they could take, and it was a wonder this boy had even managed to come away from his childhood where he'd been deprived of his family and parents even reasonably intact. Patricia could understand the reason why the magical world was calling him a liar. Everyone just had these ideas about what the Boy Who Lived should be like, and his reclusiveness made it virtually impossible for anyone to properly get to know him.

_Everyone _in the magical world thought Harry Potter lived in the magical world somewhere, but he didn't. Somehow Patricia was unsurprised to find that out given Dumbledore would never have allowed him to be exposed, not if the Death Eaters were out there.

But as he walked past she saw something else which excited her.

No-one would miss him. Patricia saw it in the boy's memories, saw the way he had been treated, and from the newspapers she had read over the last few weeks. She had to suppress a giggle when she saw the clumsy way Dumbledore had gone about posting guards on the muggle street Potter lived on.

For all his strengths, Dumbledore never properly thought through the majority of his plans. Who in their right mind would go to a muggle street with only an invisibility cloak, and not think to silence themselves? She mentally shrugged. It wasn't her problem, and if Dumbledore wanted to get into hot water with the Ministry due to the Statute of Secrecy, let him.

Patricia let a smirk cross her face as Harry Potter walked past her. It had been a long time since she had turned someone, and she was looking forward to it now.

XXX

Harry had no idea what to expect when he went through the door, but as he looked around the hallway with admiration over the rich dark wine-coloured walls with rich red velvet curtains, he couldn't hel[ but wonder what this place was.

The woman who had invited him inside followed him in, but Harry paid no attention to that. He had just seen a glass cabinet lining the wall. Curious, he walked over to it, and he peered in at the collection inside. His eyes widened as he saw the penis-shaped glass and plastic objects inside.

"Those are dildos," the woman explained.

Harry knew what they were. You didn't spend a few years living with the pervert who was Seamus Finnigan and not pick up a few details here and there. "Why are they here?" he asked.

There was a laugh from the woman. "Look behind you," she said.

Harry turned, and he watched as a beautiful, plump looking redhead whose hair was significantly more darker and luscious than the carrot coloured hair of the Weasley family. She was dressed in a tight dress which hugged her body, and she was leading a man away through an open door. Harry looked at the woman in curiosity.

The woman shook her head pityingly, much to his confusion and annoyance. "Soho is the part of London where brothels and strip clubs are," she explained for Harry's benefit, although the patronising way she said it made Harry more embarrassed than angry now he knew where he was.

_A brothel? I'm in a _brothel? Harry thought to himself in disbelief.

The woman smiled. "Don't worry, kid. It's not so bad. In fact, it can be luxurious since you're going to be here for a bit, right? I mean, at least until you get on your feet."

Harry wasn't sure if he even should stay here. He had nothing against prostitution, hell he had little idea about it, really. He knew if Hermione were here she would call it demeaning, but he had been so cold outside not to mention hungry. "I guess," he whispered.

The woman smiled. "Nice to meet you. I'm Madam Patricia. I own and run this brothel," she held out her hand.

Harry hesitantly took it. "I'm Harry Potter. Nice to meet you as well," he said, trying to at least sound like he meant it.

The woman just kept smiling before she dropped her hand. "So, what exactly are you doing in Soho? Are you running away from something or somebody?" she asked in a manner that Harry almost took as teasing, although there was something darker there, as if the woman had seen for herself there was more to it than that.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't tell a muggle about what was going on in the magical world, so he couldn't tell her anything about his reasons without sounding like a lunatic. "You could say that," he said shortly.

Madam Patricia grinned. "I've met dozens of teenagers who have done the same," she commented. "I don't really care about the reasons, I've heard them all, but for many of them I've helped them get on their feet."

Harry regarded her with suspicion. "How?" he asked.

Madam Patricia opened her arms to show him the brothel. "I know people who can give teenagers apprenticeships, sometimes I've even given them jobs here myself, and they use the money to put themselves through school, or higher education so they can become something good."

Harry had learnt the hard way as a child nothing was free, yet this woman seemed to be hinting things like apprenticeships and university placements grew on trees, but he decided to play along and not give anything away. "What did you make them do?" he asked curiously.

"Anything they wanted," Madam Patricia replied with an enigmatic smile Harry knew would put Dumbledore's to shame. "Now, I shall take you to a room where you can stay, and then we shall have dinner. I will send in one of my girls to find out your favourite foods, okay?"

Harry still wasn't sure whether he should trust this woman or not, but his fatigue won out. "Okay," he nodded.

Madam Patricia led him upstairs to a bedroom with a single bed and a wardrobe with an en-suite bathroom. "I shall send in my girl in a moment, please think of this room as your own," she said before she left, leaving Harry staring at the door.

_Yeah, until I leave. _

Harry examined his bedroom. It was obvious the place was usually inhabited by one of the girls who worked as a prostitute, but Harry couldn't see any immediate problems with staying here for a bit. He dumped his trunk on the bed, wishing he had Hedwig with him at least, but she had been out delivering a letter and she hadn't come back. Harry wondered what had happened to her, but he hoped they were reunited soon.

As he was sorting himself out, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Harry called, surprised by the manners of the girls here. Usually, someone just came in through the door whenever he was in a room since the magical world didn't practice manners, it seemed.

The door opened and a tall girl walked in. She was incredibly beautiful with flawless dark skin, curly black hair which shone in the light, and dark and passionate looking eyes dressed in a tight-fitting dark red dress.

"Hi," she said clearly in an accented voice he couldn't identify. "I'm Yasmin, and you're Harry, yes?" she said uncertainly.

"Yeah, that's me," he said, and he gave Yasmin the list of things he liked and what he didn't like. Once he was finished she gave him a seductive smirk, and she walked out. Harry shook his head and he went to have a shower to wash. When he came back he found a simple shirt and trousers in his size waiting for him. Harry was mystified by their appearance since he hadn't even expected them.

When he was led downstairs to a small dining room his eyes widened at the sight of the small feast laid out neatly on the table. Beef steaks with vegetables and roasted potatoes and onion gravy, followed by treacle tart.

Madam Patricia sat down and tucked into her own meal and watched as Harry ate. _Any minute now…._

Harry went rigid.

Madam Patricia smirked. _Those spells and potions worked a treat; you'd think after he had been under the fake Moody's tutelage for a year, he would have been more careful…_

"What are you most afraid of?" she asked.

"I am afraid of dying for no reason," Harry replied. His voice had a calm, detached tone there, but Madam Patricia knew it was the potions making him speak in that manner.

"Do you believe that Voldemort will kill you?" she asked.

"Not if I hide from him, but if he finds me then he will kill me," Harry's voice was still detached, but Patricia knew if he hadn't had the potion in his system, he would have been afraid.

She thought about everything she had seen in his mind when he walked past, and she felt sorry for him. He was alone with no real family, and he had nothing really to live for in this world where so many wanted to kill him. Patricia had encountered many children who had been abused by their so-called relatives, and yet now they were either the girls who worked for her, or they had gone on to become something more than what their parents had expected them to become.

She slipped out her wand when she came to a decision and she gently wiped Harry's memory of what she'd just done, and she also neutralised the potions in his system.

When the boy was in bed, Patricia went to her office to consider what she was going to do before she summoned Yasmin.

As soon as the prostitute walked in, Patricia turned to her.

"What are you planning on doing with Harry Potter, Madam?" Yasmin asked.

Patricia turned her head so she could see the London skyline. Many of the buildings changed, either they were demolished and something new came in, or the old ones were simply augmented with something new. "I think we shall bring him into the family," she said.

Yasmin gasped with pleasure. "Really?"

"Yes," Patricia smiled, but she became more businesslike. "I will prepare the room. I will let you know when to bring him down. Be ready."

"Yes, Madam."


	3. Chapter 3 Jodie Potter

The Red Light Curse.

Harry was just getting ready for bed when there was a knock from the door. He stiffened instantly and all tiredness faded from his frame while he took out his wand, although he hoped he wouldn't need it; the last thing he wanted was for the Ministry to get a fix on where he was, never mind Dumbledore or the people working for him, although he had no idea who this _"old crowd" _as the old wizard referred to them as were, but he knew Sirius and Lupin were a part of it.

He'd had a fairly relaxing evening since dinner, and he felt far more well-fed now than he'd done since the last feast at Hogwarts. He'd also had a nice warm bath while he decided to take full advantage of the brothel's hospitality. Harry hadn't really spoken to any of the girls who worked here since he hadn't gotten the opportunity, and he hadn't spoken much to Yasmin or to Madam Patricia although he planned to do so in the morning when he hoped he would finally have worked out a plan on what he was going to do next.

It felt strange for him to be sleeping in a brothel while he knew in other parts of the place men were being entertained and having sex with the girls who worked here, but he had no idea what kind of place the brothel was, or if Madam Patricia was worse than the Dursleys, but he would give them the benefit of the doubt for the time being.

While he had been in the bath, Harry had taken the opportunity to think about what his future was going to be. He wanted desperately to head for Gringotts and find out if there was anything the goblins could do to put him on the right track which meant getting him away from the Dursleys and from the Ministry. He had a vague idea of where the bank was, although he had no idea how he was going to get there except by the Tube although he had no idea where the nearest Underground station was, and he had no muggle money to get there. Something inside of him had told him to remain in the brothel for a few more days, and he could see the logic in that thought process since being here for a few days would mean he'd have some time to work out what he was going to do.

Harry had expected a nice, quiet and early night tonight. He hadn't expected someone to knock on his door, and he was understandably worried since he had learnt over the years the worst surprises always usually come when you least expect them. "Come in," he called.

The door opened slowly and he saw Yasmin was standing in the doorway.

"Yasmin?" Harry was surprised to see the prostitute there.

"Hello, Harry, oh I'm sorry," she said when she saw he was wearing the dressing gown he'd found in the wardrobe; it was coloured pink as it was for a girl, but she didn't mind. "You were just getting into bed."

"That's right, I am," Harry replied, making it clear he just wanted to get to bed and that he wanted her gone.

"It's just Madam Patricia wants to speak to you. She's waiting downstairs."

Harry held back the urge to sigh. "What does she want?" he asked without any true interest. He had no desire to speak to anybody at the moment, all he wanted to do was to get some sleep. He was tired and it was very late, and he wanted to wake up again in a few hours with a clearer idea of what he was going to do next.

"I don't know, but she said she can help you although she wants a clear idea of what to do for you now so she can make the preparations in the morning."

Harry started a little in surprise. He hadn't expected the brothel owner to do anything for him at this time of night but he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and listen to what she had to say, although he had no desire to be told what he could and could not do with his life after how Dumbledore kept poking his nose in.

"Alright," Harry replied softly, "I'll listen, but then I want to come back here, and get back to bed."

Yasmin nodded with a smile. "That's perfect," she commented and she waited while Harry got out of his dressing gown and donned his clothes. He didn't want to walk about the corridors of the brothel in a dressing gown in case any of the girls got the wrong idea. When he left he sent a longing look at the bed before he went out of the room with Yasmin.

Curiously enough he didn't see or hear any of the girls in any of the rooms, although he did hear some female voices in one of the rooms. He turned to Yasmin curiously.

"Oh, they're just talking about the day they had, drinking at the same time; our job is no different from other jobs, really. We work, at the end we eat, drink, chat, and watch telly," Yasmin explained.

Harry hadn't really thought much of prostitution in his life, so he didn't know the ins and the outs. But he hadn't expected it to be likened to a regular job until now.

To Harry's surprise, Yasmin led him into a room that seemed to be in a basement more than anything else, only the space down here was dedicated to storage and yet it all felt clean and tidy. He didn't know what took place down here, but he guessed the brothel should just be clean completely.

Yasmin took him into a different room and as he stepped inside he was surprised to find Madam Patricia standing on a strange platform that seemed to be incongruously made of stone.

"Madam Patricia?" he said.

"Ah, there you are Harry," the brothel owner greeted with a smile. "Please, come here and join me on the platform."

Harry walked slowly up to the platform, feeling all of his instincts telling him something was not right. Why would the brothel owner bring him down here? Why was she in this room? But he couldn't stop himself from moving, and as he stepped onto the platform, he noticed the long stick in Madam Patricia's hand, a stick Harry was well acquainted with.

He looked up in horror. "You're a witch?"

"Yes," Madam Patricia replied, nodding over to Yasmin. "All of the girls in the brothel are witches as well."

_What? _Harry had heard stories of muggle-borns leaving the magical world, but he had never imagined meeting a coven of them here of all places. "You know…you know who I am?" he asked hesitantly while he tried to work out a way of keeping them going for longer while he tried to reach for his own wand, but he couldn't move.

His confusion and his fear didn't go unnoticed. "Ah, you've noticed you cannot move," the brothel owner said almost apologetically, "but that's because we don't want you to injure yourself."

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, furious with himself for getting caught out like this. "Who are you working for?"

"I'm not working for anyone but myself," Patricia replied.

"Then why are you doing this? _What _are you doing?"

Madam Patricia sighed and she stepped down from the platform while she pocketed her wand. Harry tried to move, but he found he couldn't; whatever spell she'd placed on him could work without a wand being used on him. "I think I should start at the beginning," she said. "To begin with, I am not a Pureblood, I am a muggle-born witch. I was at Hogwarts myself, all of my prostitutes were at some point. But I started when Albus Dumbledore himself began to learn there; I doubt he'd remember me even if he heard the name I'd used there."

Harry gaped at her in surprise, filing away the information she had used a different name when she had been at Hogwarts, although he wasn't sure if he believed her, considering wizards and witches, although they lived longer than muggles, did age as they did. "You don't look-," he began but he stopped when he realised he would sound rude even though this woman had practically trapped him.

Patricia didn't seem offended by his observation. "No, I don't, do I?" she said with a smile. "And that is thanks to the platform you are standing on. I acquired it during my time as a Curse Breaker."

"You were a Curse Breaker?" Harry said in amazement, wondering how this brothel owner had a totally different career god alone knew how long ago.

"I was," Patricia confirmed, sitting down on a small simple looking wooden armchair which was nearby. "What do you know about Curse Breakers?"

"Not a lot," Harry admitted, feeling guilty that he hadn't really bothered to learn more about the different professions in the magical world.

"Curse Breakers are essentially treasure hunters. They go around, breaking curses around tombs or treasure chambers while making sure any dangerous magic is properly contained," Patricia said, "but while the profession fascinated me and I became celebrated for the missions I went on, I had already become a prostitute. I loved sex. I still do even now. But I noticed as the years passed I was getting older. I won't bore you with how long it took me to find the platform you are standing on, but I will give it to you simply; I wanted to find a way of living forever, and eventually I found it when I came across a legend of a powerful witch and enchantress in Greece who had been fascinated with time travel. She had worked for years to create a magical time machine which was far superior and more versatile than the Time-Turners and similar methods of time travel. She succeeded, but one day she was raped by a man who hated women."

Harry listened to the story in confusion. He could understand the desire to learn and discover knowledge. He remembered how he'd gone to Hogwarts hoping to learn more, but he was still mystified about why he was standing on the platform now.

"She was traumatised by the event. Deeply traumatised," Madam Patricia went on, "so she decided to teach him a lesson when she took a look at her work. She came to three choices; the first was she would lure her attacker to the platform and accelerate him through time, exposing him to enough temporal magical energy and age him to death slowly or quickly. The second was similar, although she would regress him to the age of a baby again, she decided on the third option, believing it to be more poetic."

"What was the third choice?" Harry asked slowly. While he felt sorry for the Ancient Greek witch, and could even understand the desire for revenge, but he had the idea it was not going to be good for him.

Madam Patricia smiled. "She decided to change the gender of the attacker by rewriting the man's timeline. With the platform and the time magics, it was very easy, and she made it simple as well." A smirk crossed the woman's face. "And that is what's going to happen to you."

"You can't turn me into a girl!" Harry shouted in disbelief as he figured out what was about to happen to him.

"Oh, but I can," Madam Patricia countered before she adopted a thoughtful pose. "Tell me, Harry….what colour is your hair?"

Harry gave her a confused look but the answer came out of his mouth anyway before he could stop it. "It's jet black."

"Is it?" Patricia smirked wider at him in confusion Harry and Yasmin knew was fake. "Yasmin, doesn't it look _brunette _to you, and it looks like it goes down to the shoulders in waves?"

Yasmin smirked herself. "Yes, it does, Madam Patricia. It should also be shiny, healthy which shows how much care goes into it."

Harry gasped as Patricia conjured a full-length mirror which was standing quite close to the platform, and he watched in awe and horror as his messy black hair lengthened and travelled down his back in waves before it changed colour from a jet black to a brunette colour. It shone and was well combed and looked after until it became a dark sheet.

What made it worse was he could _remember _always having hair like this, ever since the day he was born. He remembered taking it to the salon and always putting a lot of care into it. He loved looking at his hair, admiring it in the mirror.

"Why are you doing this?" he managed to force out.

Madam Patricia stepped forwards. "When I found this platform and realised what it could do, I met a number of muggle-borns who had been kicked out of the magical world; contrary to what is widely known, many muggle-borns actually choose to remain in the magical world, but not all of them. It's actually a myth the pureblood's force us out, but it's not true. However, when I opened this brothel, I needed prostitutes, so I began changing their timelines whether it was just gender or just personality, it made no difference. I felt guilty at first, but I quickly got over it. And now it's your turn, Harry Potter."

Harry looked at her in shock. He knew what they were going to do to him, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"Now," Madam Patricia looked him up and down, "I think you should be 5'6."

Harry's body adjusted itself to Madam Patricia's commands until he was standing at 5'6, and once again he could remember reaching that height.

"Please stop this," Harry pleaded.

"No. In a few minutes, you'll be thanking me for transforming you. Now, down to business, your face….it should be heart-shaped, and your skin tone throughout should be an olive complexion, and you must have a dainty nose. You have twenty/twenty vision. Your green eyes have longer eyelashes, and your eyebrows are thinner and must have an arch. Your lips are plump, all the best for sucking cock, and must be soft and red. Your skin is smooth and absolutely well maintained, as a girl's skin should always be," Madam Patricia said.

Harry watched in horror as his skin tone darkened slightly before his features transformed, giving him a daintier nose which upturned slightly. His glasses simply disappeared, and his eyes remained the same, but the eyelashes lengthened while his eyebrows thinned and gained an arch. His lips plumped out and softened so they were no longer chapped. They turned red and looked enticing. His horror disappeared when he remembered having this face all of his life, admiring how beautiful his face was.

"SHE is shaping up quite well, Madam Patricia," Yasmin complimented with admiration.

"Thanks, Yasmin," Patricia grinned at her prostitute and then turned back to the boy who was becoming a girl and would be working for the brothel herself. "But we're not finished yet. Do you want to have a go?"

"Can I?" Yasmin grinned like a little girl.

"Of course, just don't be too crazy," Patricia warned.

"I won't," she stepped forward. "Harry, I understand the Tri-wizard tournament was on for the last year at Hogwarts, true?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

Yasmin licked her lips. "Have you ever had sex?"

_Oh, no way I am going to answer that! _Harry thought to himself desperately, and he tried to stop his lips from moving, but the words came out regardless. "No."

"You're a virgin?" A smile was playing on Yasmin's face. "No, how can that be? A lucky boy from Durmstrang asked you as a date to the Yule Ball, he took you to his ship, and he fucked you. He had an amazing cock and he fucked your pussy so hard it felt soooo good. You were a great lay, and he even invited a few of his friends to fuck you, much to your surprise, although they quickly showed you what you were missing. They took you for a full night and made you love cock and cum, making you into a slut when you'd always been repressed. You love sex now, you love flirting with guys, and you love giving blowjobs and taking it in your cunt. Yes, you have a pussy; you no longer have a cock or balls, you have a clitoris, part of a new sensitive vagina."

Harry had been horrified of Yasmin's little tale at first, but he remembered it clearly in his head. It had been a wonderful evening after years of wondering more about his sexuality or being so shy about it he had never been able to express himself, and he remembered how good it was to be fucked in his pussy, and memories of boys fucking her mouth entered her head.

His pussy…

What was the problem? He had always had a vagina. He had wiped it whenever he had sat on a potty and he remembered his first period.

Patricia was smirking, especially when she noticed the transforming boy no longer had a bump in his crotch. Now he was a biological SHE.

"That's right; you are a slut, and after that night, you began fucking boys, earning a reputation in the school; you didn't care, you began enjoying it. In fact, when you came to the brothel you wanted to get rid of the itch. You realised where you were in London, and you decided to become a hooker rather than anything else. You just wanted to lie on your back, open your legs, and let someone fuck you," Patricia smiled.

Memories began entering Harry's mind, making her close her eyes as she pictured herself kneeling in front of boys, sucking their penises and taking it inside of her. She felt a heat in her crotch, but she couldn't move to find out what it was.

Madam Patricia was right, she realised with the remembrance; she had wanted to become a prostitute so then she'd be able to screw whomever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

"You have a voluptuous figure with wide hips, with a firm bubble butt. Your legs are long, shapely and well-toned. Your feet are small, dainty, and you are now able to walk in high-heeled shoes, although you're like many other of the prostitutes in this brothel; you don't like wearing them all the time, no matter how sexy you are. You have a flat stomach, evidence of a girl who takes care of herself thanks to your exercise regimen and your ballet practice, and you have two Double D breasts," Patricia went on, "your breasts are one of your favourite features since it draws the eye."

Harry's figure began to change, her legs began to change shape losing its masculine appearance and gaining a more feminine tone, and her feet became smaller, daintier. Her stomach began to thin; Harry had never been a fat person courtesy of life with the Dursleys, but she remembered how her ballerina lessons had given her such a slim figure which helped in later life. She remembered the day her breasts began to grow until they reached their final, desired, size, and how they seemed to get bigger with each year until boys looked at them. When she lost her virginity and she had begun having sex with more guys the rumours had spread, and the stares had become more obvious. Sure, Rita Skeeter had had a field day calling her a 'Scarlett woman,' but she didn't care.

"Your body has a feminine form, with your shoulders more compressed. Your arms are slimmed down while your hands are small and dainty, with slightly longer fingers. Your fingernails are larger, and you have red nail polish on the nails and on your toenails," Madam Patricia went on thoughtfully.

Harry noticed her smaller size, but she had always had this body type. As for her nails and matching toenails, she remembered painting her nails only the day before.

Madam Patricia and Yasmin looked on, seeing that the physical transformation was almost finished, but as she carefully examined the girl's appearance the brothel owner realised something was missing. "Your eyes are pierced; it was a birthday gift from a friend in the muggle world, she took you out as a treat to get your ears pierced and you received two ear studs."

Harry's personal history changed again, and she remembered receiving for her birthday her ear piercings. When it had happened she had begun to feel truly like a girl.

Madam Patricia smiled, pleased the physical transformation had finished. Now there was something else they had to do. "Now its time for your clothes…," she began thoughtfully before she became inspired. "At the moment, you are wearing a pair of high-heels with a spike three inches tall. You are wearing a pair of skintight jeans which look as though they've been spray-painted onto your body, and you're wearing a tight white coloured t-shirt. When you become a prostitute completely, you will favour clothes more geared for our profession."

Harry's clothes shifted in appearance. Her trainers, already ill-fitting due to the transformation, altered shape and transformed into a pair of heels with the heel part reshaping itself and developing a spike. Her trousers transformed into a pair of skintight jeans which clung to her legs like they'd been spray-painted on her lower body. Her t-shirt lightened and became a tight white t-shirt which proudly showed off the girl's cleavage.

"Oh, that's it," Madam Patricia clicked her fingers in realisation. "I knew I had forgotten something important. Your bra and panties. You are wearing a sexy neon pink pushup bra to not only support your boobs but to show everyone how big and sexy you are."

Harry winced as she felt the strong straps of the bra forming over her chest before she felt the soft cups cover her breasts. But why was she surprised? She had chosen the bra this morning, and she had worn it proudly on her way to the brothel.

"Your underwear is a matching pair of neon pink panties," Madam Patricia said after a pause as if she knew how uncomfortable the sudden changes were but Harry accepted the changes to her personal reality.

Harry felt a strange feeling as her boxes transformed - wait, boxers? She thought she had picked out a pair of panties to wear earlier.

Patricia smiled. While she still felt guilty about what she did with the Time Platform occasionally because she was changing the lives of the boys and girls who crossed her path, she was only making their lives better. In any case, she had no desire for this particular young wizard turned witch to remain in the brothel for the rest of her life if she did not want to; thanks to her several prostitutes had gone off to form businesses, new lives of their own.

"Alright," she said to push aside her questionable morals although she personally believed she was improving the quality of life for everyone, "you now have the body of a girl, and you may remember always having this body…but the most important question on my mind is…who are you, what is your name?"

The newly transformed girl opened her mouth - Patricia was vividly reminded of the girl's voice, it did not match her new body - and spoke, "My name is Harry Potter, Madam Patricia."

"Really?" Madam Patricia's voice was full of confusion. "I could have sworn you said your name was…..," she paused for a moment as she mentally thought of a name, "Jodie Lillian Potter?"

Harry's face became confused before she remembered her name was Jodie. Why would she introduce herself as Harry?

Patricia went on. "You were raised in a foster home after your muggle relatives did the right thing, and place you in a foster home without taking you in, saving you from a life of abuse simply because they didn't want you. But while you enjoyed the ballet lessons you received, you still hated the foster home at times because eventually came to want your own freedom."

Memories of her time with the Dursleys transformed into memories of living in a foster home. Jodie could remember the ballet lessons, but a growing dislike for having to live in a foster home with other kids even if many of them were her friends.

"You discovered your magical abilities at the age of eleven, when you learnt the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort murdered your parents," Madam Patricia went ahead slowly while she tried to think of a worthwhile timeline for the girl to impose on the original, "your years at Hogwarts continued as they did in the old timeline, however it was from a different perspective, the perspective of a girl. You are best friends not with Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger, they annoy you; you prefer to be with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, who are both loyal to you, and vice versa. You wanted to study advanced magic in order to fool Albus Dumbledore, so when you achieved your OWLs you would move onto your NEWTs, and then you would come back here while studying up for your masteries, but you will be content to stay in the brothel while you are doing that."

Patricia wasn't making anything up. She had seen enough in Harry, now Jodie's mind when the boy/girl arrived, and she had seen within the girl's mind the sharpness, how she had picked up on Dumbledore's plans to hinder her education, and how she had planned to get around them. She wasn't exactly changing all of Jodie's life since it would take too long to think of the right parameters, and besides it was a very tedious task at the best of times.

Jodies' mind was altering as different memories of her spending time with Hermione and Ron shifted into memories of Lavender and Parvati came into her mind, two girls whom she knew Dumbledore hadn't approached to spy on her, although that didn't stop the Weasleys' or Hermione.

"Alright," Patricia whispered. "In the coming year, you will come back here for the Christmas holidays; you'll do this by sneaking out of the castle, and then you will see me about your scar."

The new programming went into Jodie's mind.

Patricia took a deep breath. All that was needed for her to do now was to alter the new girls' personality although much of the groundwork was already set.

"Jodie, you were born a girl, therefore you have a girly mind. You love gossiping with your friends, Parvati and Lavender, and you love fashion and shopping. You take phenomenal pride in your appearance, keeping your face well made up with lipstick, eyeshadow, and mascara. You have no interest in boy games like Quidditch, although you are a good flyer. You loved dolls as a child, and you loved ballet, and ever since you lost your virginity, you have become a slut who gets horny very easily."

New memories entered Jodie's mind while old ones were replaced quickly as her reality was changed to reflect the alterations. At the same time, images of boys entered her mind and became excited.

Madam Patricia made an adjustment on the platform, and the time magic created a shockwave which completely altered history so then the Boy Who Lived became a very different Girl Who Lived.

Jodie stood there for a moment before her eyes fluttered closed and she collapsed to the ground, but Madam Patricia waved her wand quickly to stop her from hurting herself.

Yasmin stepped forward and knelt beside the girl. She looked down at her thoughtfully. "Will she be alright?"

"Yes, this is a natural part of the transformation, to give the mind time to accept the changes to her life," Madam Patricia said reassuringly. "She'll be fine."

Yasmin cast her mind back over the transformation. "What was that remark about the scar?"

Patricia sighed. "Dark Magic, Yasmin," she commented, already mentally preparing herself for the ritual she would need to perform, although she would need time to gather the ingredients. "Very dark magic. Voldemort broke one of the cardinal rules of magic; never damage the soul."

"The soul?" Yasmin was intrigued. "What does the soul have to do with magic?"

Yasmin was a muggle-born herself, and like Jodie, her life had been transformed by the Time Platform, but there was only so much she knew of magical culture.

"Contrary to what most believe, blood has nothing to do with containing magic," Madam Patricia shook her head at the nonsensical attitudes of the pureblood elites and their moronic thought processes. "Sure, blood carries magic, but its the soul which is the source, and it is essential for the mental and physical wellbeing of the wizard. If you damage the soul, you damage your magic."

"But why would You Know Who go to such lengths?" Yasmin asked confused.

Patricia sighed. "Splitting souls is seen as a means to become immortal, but it doesn't work. Every soul possesses a limited lifespan. So even if Voldemort did plan on splitting his soul a hundred times over, he would just die eventually. And I'm certain he did split his soul more than once, which explains his madness and why he looks physically deformed. These soul fragments have been around for years, and no matter how many purges take place, run by magical governments, you are never going to be truly able to get rid of the knowledge, especially since many families hoard it like a dragon hoards treasure. But the truth is…. they don't work, otherwise, there would be more immortals running around."

Madam Patricia shook her head. "You know, I often asked myself what Voldemort did to live forever, what rituals he used, and which ones turned him into a raving madman, but now I know I still can't believe he messed around with such dangerous magic like a Horcrux."

"A Horcrux, is that what these soul fragments are called?"

"Yes," Patricia replied, knowing her prostitute was just asking to be sure.

Yasmin was confused as well as disgusted anyone would mutilate themselves just to live forever. "But why wouldn't they know it doesn't work?"

"I don't know," Patricia closed her eyes and cursed magical ignorance once more. "I asked myself that question whenever I encountered this type of magic abroad. My guess is the purges just removed all pertinent information, and with so many legends lying around, and really badly researched texts on the subject which describes this type of magic so badly and don't even take into account the soul has a finite lifespan, so even if you did split your soul then your life expectancy is fairly low anyway. But those texts…," Patricia sighed and shook her head as she remembered reading a copy of _The Darkest Arts_ the goblins had given her to show her and the other Curse Breakers she had worked with during her career before she had left where everyone got it wrong, especially on how Horcruxes were believed to work and how it should be destroyed, "they got so much wrong, its inevitable people get the wrong idea."

"But you know how they work and how to destroy them?" Yasmin said.

"Yes. As a Curse Breaker, I must have encountered these things a hundred times. I found a soul fragment inside Jodie's head," Patricia replied.

"Then why don't you remove it now?" Yasmin asked, horrified their new girl had something like that in her head.

"I don't have all the ingredients for the ritual. Some of them are hard to find, hard to collect. It will take me months just to find them, and they will be expensive. I may need to call in some of my favours just to get some of the rarer ingredients, but I'm prepared for that," Patricia answered.

Patricia cast her gaze down at the girl who was sleeping naturally. She had so many plans in mind for the girl, plans Albus Dumbledore would never know about but plans that would be beneficial to the girl rather than detrimental rather than anything her old classmate had in mind.

There was no doubt in Patricia's mind whatever Dumbledore had in mind for Jodie, they hadn't been well thought out, and since he had just left the piece of Voldemort's soul in the girl's head, especially since he would remember a girl since her timeline had been altered, she guessed he had used the flawed and badly researched books on the subject to determine a strategy.

_It's been a long time since I tripped the old fool up, this is going to be the best since he won't even know of my involvement in his precious plans, _Patricia thought to herself.


	4. Chapter 4 The New World

And that's it - the final chapter. Please let me know what you think.

* * *

The Red Light Curse.

As Jodie woke up and her eyes got a full amount of sun she wondered what was going on as she was usually an early riser. She stood up and walked towards the window. She felt a little bit odd as she felt her tits swinging and her hips swaying as she moved while her large bubble butt swung from side to side like a glorious pendulum, although the teenager had no idea what the problem was. She had never had this problem before, and she thought it was just a result of waking up in an unfamiliar place, so she decided to just ignore it and carry on with her life.

She looked out over the skyline with wonder; she'd always wanted to live in London, but this was the first time she had ever gotten the chance.

Jodie stood by the window for a bit, looking out over the street as the early morning commuter went about their daily routines. Yesterday had been a great day for her. Not only had she said goodbye to the foster home, but she had also gone into London, to Soho, and she was going to become a prostitute.

But even that knowledge couldn't stop the frustration she felt about how Dumbledore was constantly refusing to tell her what was going on,.

She simply didn't understand the logic behind this embargo.

Yeah, she could understand the desire to keep herself safe, and she might even comprehend why in a war secret needed to be maintained, but did Dumbledore really think Voldemort wouldn't come after her if she knew nothing?

It made little sense to her. Jodie had become truly frustrated with the old wizard and it had reached the point where she no longer cared: she didn't care what Dumbledore's little stooges had to say, how they kept saying everything the old wizard did was _for her own good. _

Jodie remembered laughing in Granger's face when the bushy-haired bookworm had tried to interfere with her friendship with Lavender and Parvati, although she had a good idea why that was since Dumbledore wanted her to be friendly with the girl, who'd spy on her. Granger had thrown that phrase about everything he had done being her own good; Granger should have really thought twice about what she had said.

Jodie honestly didn't really care what Dumbledore thought anymore, and she had no doubt when he realised he wasn't at the foster home since she didn't live with these precious Dursleys he constantly went on about, the stupid old fool would get in touch, but she refused to even touch the letters although she would destroy them as soon as they arrived.

She didn't know how anyone would feel about her moving into a brothel and becoming one of the prostitutes herself, but she didn't care. She also knew some of the group Dumbledore had around him would emotionally blackmail her by bringing up her parents, but Lily and James Potter were both dead, and she needed to be constantly fucked to stop herself from being horny.

_Mm, _she thought, _I need a fuck so bad! _

There was a knock on the door, and Jodie turned around. "Come in," she said.

The door opened and Yasmin came in. The other woman was dressed in a tight-fitting dress showing off her nipples, and she was wearing a pair of high-heeled pumps. "Oh, good you're up, Jodie," Yasmin smiled. "Great. Are you going to get dressed? Breakfast is almost ready."

Jodie looked down at her clothes. She was just wearing a nightgown and nothing more. "Er, yeah," she replied. "Do I have long?"

"Oh, just throw something simple on for the time being. You don't need to go all out just yet. Most of the girls here dress in casual clothes before they go back to their rooms, and dress up for the working day anyway," Yasmin explained. "Just do that."

"Oh, that sounds great," Jodie replied, reassured. She momentarily wondered to herself why Yasmin appeared to be dressed for work already if everyone else was dressed casually, but she guessed the older woman had already had breakfast or she had simply woken up earlier than all of them and had gotten ready and was just waiting to eat. It didn't really matter which.

She hurried over to her things and she found a skirt and a shirt and donned them quickly before she followed Yasmin who was waiting patiently. The older prostitute smiled kindly at the girl and led her out of the room and down the corridors to the dining room.

"I'll show you around in a bit," Yasmin was saying on their way down, walking past several rooms marked by silver plaques.

Jodie paused at one of them and read off "Roleplay room."

"Oh, you are so gonna love them if you ever use it," Yasmin grinned, "all you need to do is play a role, like a schoolgirl, a nun, or even a superheroine like Catwoman, or Batgirl."

"Sounds hot," Jodie smiled, already thinking of several games she could play in there. She got hot at the thought of wearing a copy of Harley Quinn's harlequin costume and became wet at the thought of playing with a guy. _God, I am such a slut thinking this! _

Finally, as the two reached the ground floor, Jodie turned to Yasmin with an eager smile on her face. "Yasmin, when am I gonna become a prostitute for real? Is it today?" she grinned, bouncing and clapping her hands.

"My, my, someone's eager. Are you up to learning it for today?"

"Hell, yeah!" Jodie grinned. "Just what do I need to do?"

Yasmin grinned. So far, everything was proceeding exactly as Madam Patricia had expected, and as the only other person to be present when the transformation had occurred, Yasmin had some memory of the different timeline, although not too much so it wouldn't drive her crazy; Madam Patricia claimed it was perfectly normal.

"Well, first, you're going to have some breakfast and there you will meet some of the other prostitutes in the brothel. Once you've done that, I'll tell you what you're gonna do, and what you are not. I will take you to the room which has been arranged for you already by Madam Patricia, and I'll show you the rest of the brothel and what we expect from you, okay?" Yasmin said.

Jodie nodded. "Yeah, it sounds great," she replied, wondering just what Yasmin was going to say to her although she guessed a lot of it concerned money.

When they arrived in the breakfast hall, Jodie was made to feel welcome; the teenager didn't feel the same way she had felt when she had been introduced to the Gryffindors for the first time when she had been sorted. Here, there was a far more close-knit feeling, especially since there weren't over a hundred or so Gryffindors.

Here there were only a few prostitutes. There were Emma and Emily, twin girls who had blonde hair and were very nice, Emily was the more lively one, whereas Emma was the calmer sister out of the pair. Near them was Hoshi, a girl of Japanese descent although Jodie had no idea how she or anyone else had come into the brothel. Next to Hoshi was Zoe, a bouncy brunette. There were a number of empty chairs which meant there were more prostitutes in the brothel, but Jodie wasn't worried; she was sure she would meet them sooner or later, but she wasn't sure if she was going to take the steps to make them into friends.

She was still reeling from the mess caused in the fourth year, the last thing she wanted right about now was to go through the same mess.

Still, that didn't mean she couldn't start building bridges. In less than a few minutes she had discovered everyone in the brothel loved working there. Not only was Madam Patricia fair, but work was good. Jodie was amazed that while only a few of the girls who had come to the place had been ambivalent about opening and spreading their legs for a guy to fuck them, it didn't take long before they learnt to enjoy it. Hearing that made Jodie's day as much as knowing she was going to be working here.

XXX

"Okay, Jodie," Yasmin smiled as she sat the teenager down in a fairly spacious room which was similar albeit different from the one she had been given to sleep in. Jodie had glanced around the room briefly but she had no idea what was in the wardrobe built into the wall. "Now, I'm going to run down the prices; all the guys who come here are told about the prices, and the members are already aware of it. But Madam Patricia has made it quite plain to all of them if they try to rip us off, our girls have permission to raise the alarm."

Jodie blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected the brothel, any brothel, to take such a heavy-handed approach but she imagined it made some sense. "Okay," she replied.

Yasmin stood up and she walked over to the bed. "Come over here, I'll show you the panic button."

Jodie did as she was told, and she spotted there were three buttons. One of them was both sides of the bed each while the third was placed close to the headboard. "Have they ever been turned on?" she asked, wondering if the brothel had let in some kind of serial killer or something like that.

"Once or twice, usually because there's some kind of medical emergency, but usually all of the clients who come here are as good as gold," Yasmin replied.

Jodie studied Yasmin closely, wondering if the other woman was telling her the truth. She decided she was since she didn't speak quickly in order to reassure her. Yasmin might have decided it would have been better if she had just answered truthfully so then none of the other girls who were less discreet would tell the truth. Jodie decided to wait and see and not to worry too much about this.

"Now," Yasmin said to her and she walked over to a small cubicle nearby. "Here is a shower; some of the girls don't usually do it, depending on their tastes, but it actually recommended the clients get a shower to clean themselves off. I don't know how Madam Patricia sells it, but it works."

"Don't the clients become offended if girls suggest it?" Jodie wanted to know.

"No, because the members already know what to expect," Yasmin replied.

"Alright, what are the rates?" Jodie asked.

Yasmin handed her a piece of paper. "It's easier if you just read this," she explained.

Jodie quickly read through the paper. "Seems okay to me," she looked up finally, "what's next?"

Yasmin grinned. "Now, I show you around before I take you to get dressed."

Jodie smiled.

For the next half an hour they walked through the brothel. All of the girls on the same floor the room Jodie and Yasmin had just chatted together in, but in the floor above the largest room was the large dance room where some of the prostitutes who also doubled as lap dancers or strippers danced for the entertainment of the clientele.

"What's this place?" Jodie asked Yasmin as they passed another room with another door close by.

Yasmin opened the door and showed the teenager what was inside. One wall was dotted with a number of holes. Two of the girls - it looked like Hoshi and another prostitute she hadn't met yet - were kneeling on the ground, and Jodie's eyes widened in lust when she saw the two girls sucking on a pair of cocks which were sticking through the wall.

Yasmin grinned as she took in the teenager's surprise which was quickly transforming into lust. "Don't worry," she whispered. "You will soon have plenty of cocks to suck."

Yasmin had to drag Jodie away. "Come on, it's time for you to get dressed and get ready for work."

Jodie nodded eagerly.

Yasmin led her upstairs to a wardrobe and makeup room. It took Jodie about twenty minutes to choose a tight-fitting crop top which would expose her mid-riff and her cleavage, and an ultra-short mini skirt and a pair of black pumps. She didn't bother wearing any panties or a bra. Yasmin said most of the girls didn't bother with things like that given their profession.

Once she was dressed, Jodie went over to the makeup table and she began making her face up, applying liberal amounts of makeup onto her face so she appeared to be what she was now. A whore.

XXX

Jodie was standing in line with the other prostitutes, saying hello to the ones whom she already knew while just saying a quick hello to the others although she knew she would have plenty of time to speak to them later, in the waiting room for the first of the clientele to arrive. She had been told by Yasmin earlier Madam Patricia ran the brothel as a business, and all of the prostitutes who worked there were businesswomen. Jodie had no idea how to feel about that, but Yasmin had given her a crash course in how to do it.

The men came streaming into the waiting room. Jodie followed the other girls' examples, posing for the men before one approached her. She was slightly put off by his older appearance, but she got over it quickly.

"Come in," she said with a smile while he ran his eyes lustfully over her hot body but as soon as he entered he began taking off his suit.

"Is there a towel waiting for me?' he asked.

Jodie nodded. "Yeah," she said, helping him out of his clothes. Just before he walked in she ran a hand down his body. "Don't be long," she whispered.

"I won't," he promised.

The man was out of the shower in over 15 minutes. When he got out, towelling himself dry of any remaining water drops, the man found the hot prostitute lying on the bed, naked, smiling at him. The sight of the girl lying naked on the bed excited the man, so much so he dropped his towel, even though he was slightly embarrassed because of the fat around his gut, however, he hoped his cock was large enough.

She licked her plump red lips. "C'mon then," she said invitingly.

The man leaned over her and thrust his cock into her cunt. She gasped a little at his size, and he waited for a second, getting the feeling the girl liked to adjust to large cocks. Once he was sure she was ready he began to thrust in and out of her cunt, making her moan in bliss…

XXX

Jodie watched Madam Patricia hold up the silver chalice she had bought from one of the flea markets in London. "So, Voldemort's soul is inside that thing?" she asked.

Work was not on for today, much to her upset; she was just dressed in casual clothes and she would have been with her friends in the brothel, but for the time being, she was just grateful to take the first step towards liberating herself from the Horcrux. She felt violated Voldemort had contaminated her with one of his soul pieces, but she was grateful it was gone.

She had done as Patricia had ordered, coming back to the brothel for the Christmas holidays although it had been met with strong resistance from Dumbledore and the people who worked for him, even Sirius and Remus although she hadn't cared. She also hadn't told them where she was going, and she knew they wouldn't like it one bit if they learnt she was a prostitute now.

The ritual wasn't very painful, although it was a little uncomfortable especially when the piece of Voldemort's soul was removed. Jodie had only taken a brief glimpse at the piece, her eyes had been watering since the piece had put up one hell of a fight. It had resembled a formless, shapeless black cloud, but it had red eyes similar to the ones Voldemort had.

"Yes, Jodie," Patricia smiled at the girl who had become one of the best prostitutes in the brothel. "It is. It's safe, it can't get out. Don't worry."

"You haven't fought this guy," Jodie pointed out, glancing up at her boss and then back solemnly at the cup. "He's tenacious. What are you going to do?"

"I'll conduct another ritual and then summon all the other soul pieces," Patricia replied. "Do you want to watch?"

Jodie sighed, torn. "Yeah, okay."

She watched as Patricia got to work. It seemed…incongruous for a brothel owner to help her when Dumbledore had proven how useless he was. But she was glad she had come here.

Not only was she having fun and had a thriving career and a nice income, but she had finally gotten away from Voldemort.


End file.
